Forever Young
by breather89
Summary: After Ashley Oswalt joins Bughuul's family, they all celebrate another victory. But even as the children remember how they came here, something waits around the corner...
1. Pool Party '66 and BBQ '79

Forever Young

Bughuul smiled at his new child. Little Ashley. She still needed to wash the blood off her hands, but who cared?

Soon, another family would arrive. He just knew it. They always did. A house that had an unsolved murder would go for a very cheap price.

He looked at his six children. Three girls, three boys. he knew that someone they'd fade. But until then, they were so useful in drawing in other children.

 **Tristin**

My name is Tristin Field. I was ten when my family died in Oregon on 28th August 1966.

My sisters, Vicky (she got crazy if anyone called her Victoria) and Amber, were aged sixteen and thirteen. I'd just graduated from fourth grade.

I remember my tenth birthday, in March that year. I'd got a Honda pedal-bike and an archery set. Toby had told me I was lucky, but I ignored him. He's always a bit jealous.

Kind of creepy to think he's probably got his own children now, while I spend eternity in swimming trunks.

It was early August and we'd just come back from a vacation at grandma and grandpa's in Idaho. Dad parked the car and told us, "OK, take everything in and maybe we can go in the pool afterward."

I dumped everything in my room and picked up a new comic. It was Batman and I thought it was great. I went in the attic because I knew Amber sometimes stole my stuff and hid them up there. I don't know why she did it every time; she knew I always looked there first.

Anyway, I was pushing yet another box out the way and glimpsed this weird projector thing. I thought it looked cool. I'd never held one, but I knew what it was.

It seemed a lot more fun than the archery set.

"Tristin!" I heard Mom calling, "Dinner! It's hot dog!"

I groaned and dragged the projector to my room, where I could look at it later. Dad came in as I was dumping it under the bed.

"Tristin, your mom said..." he glanced at the projector, "What's that?"

"N-Nothing." I stammered, trying to stand in front of that. Why do I do that? I do such stupid things.

He knelt down on the carpet and pulled it out. I got that sinking feeling in your tummy that you get when you think you might be in trouble.

His eyes widened when he saw it. I expect he was thinking of something more serious.

"Tristen, where did you get this?" he asked.

I told him, "It was in the attic."

He mumbled something and told me, "Tristin, if you want to handle heavy things, ask me for assistance."

"What about Mom?" I asked. He scoffed.

"She's a woman, what does she know?"

"Vicky won't like it if you say that." I told him. It's true – Vicky was always reading about modern women. They'd started up NOW only a few weeks before and Vicky said she wanted to join.

But Dad just ruffled my hair, called me a tease and then walked out.

A few nights later, I saw something standing over my bed. It was a huge figure, like those you see in pictures of the Grim Reaper, except he had a face. But no mouth.

I would have screamed, but somehow I knew that this would be comforting.

I went up to the attic again the next night. Next to the projector had been some drawings.

Three drawings, all on sheet large sheet, with strange symbols all over.

I squinted in the light of the flashlight as I had a look.

 _Sunday Walk, '48_. A man, woman and a boy, all stick figures, all cut into pieces with a pitchfork, all on sleds. I guessed that they had been pushed down a hill and sliced by pitchforks. Wasn't hard to work out. Underneath, it said 'Brita Johansen'.

As I read, I saw a girl come out of the shadows. She looked younger than me, maybe eight years old. She had blond plaits and wore a white-and-red flower pattern.

She told me, "I was the last of my line to be born in Scandinavia." She then pointed at the drawing, as if describing an art project, "this is Mor, Var and Edvard. Edvard screamed too much."

I was bewildered. (my teacher told me that means 'confused' or 'taken aback') Why was I shown this? And how come she was eight after nearly twenty years?

Then a boy came from the shadows. He was older, maybe my age. He pointed at the next picture.

This read, _What a Gas! '56_. The picture had a man, woman, little girl and older boy, all on chairs. A gas oven was drawn with flames inside.

The name underneath said, 'Ernst Omdahl'. He looked at me, with harsh, deep blue eyes. "My family came over for a better life. Instead, they lost it."

The third and last picture was of a man, a woman and two older boys, with ropes round their necks, all lying on beds. The title read _Jump Rope, '64_.

I blinked at the last one, as the dark-haired, small boy came out from the shadows.

"The last one – that seems familiar..."

The boy put his hand up and told me, "Liron Langer, lived in Delaware. That's because I lived in your old house."

I faintly remembered that when Dad had worked at the beach tourism industry, we had lived in a house for a cheap price. Dad hadn't much money before then, so we took the best option, a one-floored house overlooking the sea.

I'd heard local kids tell me that a family had been killed there. That someone came in and found the parents and two of their three sons strangled to death with a jump rope. The younger one had been only days from his Bar Mitzvah. The third son, just eight years old, had vanished. There were still missing posters up on lampposts, which really unnerved me when I rode my bicycle through town.

Then he told me, "Your turn, Tristin."

I raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he'd said.

Then Liron explained, gesturing with his hands, "It's like this. Each kid needs to kill their family. Bughuul – that's our friend over there – gives us power. He also chooses the one with the strongest mind. He doesn't like weak-minded children. He also doesn't chose kids under three or kids over fourteen. Too small or too big. Anyway, you chose the method. Just make it soon."

It was weird hearing a little kid talk like a lawyer.

Then he told me, as if reading my thoughts (maybe he could?), "Take your time. You've seen all the pictures. You can use an 8mm camera. Enjoy yourself."

I don't know what happened. But something inside me made me twisted and ignorant.

Going to school didn't matter. Toby didn't matter. My bike and archery set and my swimming certificates didn't matter. Fifth grade didn't matter, breaking my voice didn't matter, TV didn't matter.

I became dark that night.

And I never looked back.

Well, not until now.

It was late August, just before we were to go back to school, that I carried out my plan. I'd got the idea after I'd gone for my swimming lessons in town. I'd come first, again. So I looked at the water and wondered about drowning.

It would be simple. I was told night was the best time. Liron gave me green liquid and said that my family had to drink it so they wouldn't move.

I had a rather nice afternoon, to be fair. Dad had said, "OK gang, let's finish off with a nice splash about!"

He was always unbelievably cheerful. I couldn't stand it, personally. Or maybe I've only started thinking that since I became a ghost.

We had a good time, really. It was the last day back before school (it was a Sunday) so Vicky and Amber were enjoying themselves. They didn't notice that I put the drink in before I went in the pool.

Amber told me, "I'm going into big school now. So I'm going to be at the Christmas dance."

I groaned. Amber said she was going to wear her new rayon and Mylar gold dress with glitter. I personally thought it made her look like one of her Barbies. Still, I told myself, I'll get the last laugh.

They all fell asleep when they crashed indoors – Mom and Dad in the kitchen, Amber and Vicky in the living room. I just sat around and waited for the sun to go down.

I dragged them out to the chairs and taped them down, before using the rope to hook the chairs.

I walked round the side of the pool and heard them groaning. I thought I'd probably say goodbye to them. I mean, they were a pain, but they were my family.

I looked into Mom's eyes as she stared up helplessly. "Bye-bye Mom," I told her, "it's been fun. You wanted me to go places. Well, I am."

I walked back round as she tried to ask what I meant. Then I pulled the rope. Dad went in first. I could hear Mom squealing, rocking on her chair. I heard Amber and Vicky crying.

Then I pulled Mom in. Then Vicky and Amber.

I saw Bughuul in the swimming pool. He came up and touched me on the shoulder.

I was accepted.

I turned to the camera, put my finger to my lips and then pushed myself into the pool.

And into Bughuul's world.

 **Darren**

My name is Darren Martinez. I was nine years old when I killed my family on 20th September 1979 in California.

I first met Bughuul in August, when I was lying in bed. Mom and Pop and Ronnie (my twin brother) were out shopping. I just wanted to read my comics, I guess.

But I wandered to the spare room. We never went in there. I'd hidden some Hersheys in there and I wanted to take them while my parents were out. I found a projector underneath the bed.

It seemed weird. Why was there a projector there? I'd seen them in school, obviously, when we were shown movies and things like that (mostly about how man will walk on Mars in 1994 and the climate in Siberia), but I'd never seen one at home. Never touched one.

I saw a small box next to it. It had a small film reel inside. _Pool Party '66_.

I took it out and shoved it in. It took a bit of time; it's not like Connect Four, you have to be careful.

What I saw made my spine chill.

I snatched it out and shoved it back under the bed. Then I pulled my legs to my chest and held myself, shaking. I didn't move until I'd heard the door opening and Mom calling out.

"Mom!" I screamed, running down the stairs, nearly knocking Pop over, and burying my face in her dress.

"Darren," she stroked my hair, "what's gotten into you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Oh, believe me, I had.

But that night, I saw, when tossing and turning and ignoring the weird wrestling movie my parents had on (I think it was wrestling. Mom switched it off when I came in), I saw him. Mr Boogie.

I felt calm and warm, then. Just as he looked over me. I smiled, giggling, holding my hands up as if he would pick me up. But then, hand outstretched, he walked backwards, slowly.

A boy began to appear from nowhere. He had cracked, grey skin and wore swimming trunks.

"Hello, Darren." He was holding the film reel.

"You're in the film." My breath felt cold in my throat.

I asked, though I have no idea why I asked this question, "Why didn't you do video?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Video?"

"Haven't you read of video players?" I asked him. He looked very confused, before he cocked his head slightly and told me, "Darren, Mr Boogie – that's him – thinks you're stronger."

"But I'm not." It's true. I can barely lift my backpack when it's stuffed with my books, pencil case and lunch.

He shook his head. "Inside. Your mind is stronger. Ronnie is a little weak kid."

I scowled to myself. Ronnie did always let me down. He was the whiny one, the baby, the stupid dim kid. I had what everyone said was 'potential'.

So I grinned.

When Mom picked us up from school a few weeks later, the car stereo playing the new hit 'I Will Survive' (oh, the irony), she told us, "Kids, your dad and I are going to go fishing on Thursday. We'll pick you up after school. He said it's a great time to be out and about."

I groaned. Mom looked at me in the rear-view mirror. "Darren. It's nice to be away instead of stuck indoors reading."

"I like reading." I told her.

But she answered, "Come on, it'll be great."

I didn't like fishing. When Ronnie wandered off back to the car, Mom asked, "What do you want to dress for at Halloween?"

I shrugged. "A ghost?"

Then she told me, "I think this weekend we'll have a cookout or something. Last hot weekend before it goes dark."

That night, I knew.

I felt cold and excited. Like you do on Christmas morning.

Mom and Pop had their after-dinner coffee. Ronnie had apple juice.

I took them to the car. They were starting to stir when I put the camera down. I had the torch ready, from the lighter I took from my teacher's desk. I threw it.

When they'd stopped squealing and the car stopped shaking, I looked into the camera and placed my finger to my lips. The fire alarm had been taken out and I knew that someone would spot the flames soon.

Liron and Tristin told me what happened to those who failed.

No way was I going like that.

So you say I went out with a bang.


	2. Lawn Work '86 and Sleepy Time '98

Lawn Work '86 and Sleepy Time '98

 **Matilda**

My name is Matilda Green. I was seven years old when my family unfortunately deceased on 17th March 1986 in California.

My older sister was named Keri. She was twelve years old. My Mom and Dad were constantly working in the city, so I spent a lot of time being babysat by my neighbour, before Keri became old enough to look after me.

I wasn't like normal girls my age. I didn't want to play with ponies or do my hair or wear pink. I listened to music. Not the garbage that I heard at parties – Keri's mix-tapes with loud rock on them. I wore my hair in two pigtails, one higher than the other, to copy her.

Mom told me off.

So what? She and dad were bankers in Los Angeles. I didn't care. It was my life.

Mom would just say that I shouldn't have that attitude and don't copy Keri, young lady, or you'll be in a lot of trouble.

Well she got her face cut apart by a lawnmower, so I don't care.

It was just after Valentine's Day. I remember because my school had a big ball (and considering it was a slightly exclusive school for banker kids and artist kids with stupid names and things like that) and I'd been sick after taking blackcurrant punch.

I remember Mom snapping at me in the car.

"You need to think about your behaviour, young lady," she was piercing her pristine red nails into the wheel so hard, I thought it'd pop, "we have a reputation to uphold."

Keri was playing with my kid's camera. New model, came out last year. Ignoring me and secretly gloating to herself that I was in trouble. Typical Keri.

As we pulled in, she called out, "Sidney! Your daughter's done it again!" almost in a sing-song voice, as if she enjoyed me being in trouble.

Then Pop was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his hands folded and looking ahead, scared.

"Sidney?" Mom asked, putting the grocery bag down and putting an arm round him, "What happened?"

He looked up and mumbled, "It's OK, just...just don't let the girls in the basement."

"Sidney?" but then he stood up and walked upstairs.

I was scared. What had happened?

Was it like when we found a giant hornet's nest in the kitchen and we had to eat at the Priests' every night? I got so sick of chilli fries.

But in my room, I saw someone. He looked a little like Death.

I saw three boys and a girl, standing around my bed. They all looked faint, their skin grey and cracked. They all held their fingers to their lips, at the same time.

I just giggled loudly and sat up.

Then the boy in swimming trunks took my hand and took me to the living room.

Over the next nights, I saw two pictures and watched two home movies. Well, I'd say they were home movies, but they were rather scary, with horrible music that sounded like someone screaming.

I asked Tristin, the boy in the trunks, "How long have you been dead?"

He turned his head. "Twenty years in August."

Twenty years seems a long time when you're seven.

I grabbed my popcorn I'd snatched from the cupboard. They looked at me, annoyed.

"I wish I could have that." I heard Darren mumble.

"Sorry," I told them, my mouth full, "I didn't think."

"I saw you had a microwave." Tristin told me. I was confused. Didn't everybody have a microwave?

Then I remembered Miss Wilson telling me that microwaves used to just be in diners and people thought they'd explode.

"Yeah," I told him, then, "it is."

He shook his head. "I'm still getting used to these new sayings."

I started giggling. "You sound like my dad!"

Then he asked, "You want to use it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

It took me a while. I was in the living room and Keri and her friends were having a slumber party. Tess and Marilyn and Candace. They were chatting and eating corn chips and drinking smoothies. I was irritated. The film was stupid, anyway.

It was some boring film that came out the year before. Some British spy movie set in San Francisco. I thought I was too young for it.

Keri had been squealing _again_. I put my hands over my ears and walked out, to the kitchen. As I opened the fridge to get some chocolate milk, I heard the sound of the lawnmower. I climbed up on the stool and looked out the window.

Pop was mowing the back yard. At eight-forty-five? (I just learnt to tell the time; I got a cat sticker) I heard Mom come out and shout the same thing at him.

I rolled my eyes, though Mom said I shouldn't.

But it gave me an idea.

On 17th March, I came in from school for the last time. It was Tuesday, so I'd had math and history. When I walked upstairs, I saw Liron in my room.

"Hey."

"I know you're ready." I put my bag down as he carried on, "Bughuul says you're ready."

I told him, "I don't know how to use a lawnmower."

He smiled, as if he'd been given a whole cake and told to eat it himself. "Bughuul will show you."

Later, I went down to watch TV with them. "Pop," I asked, "can I have pasta tonight?"

"No, sweetie. It's fish night." He replied, not taking his eyes off the television.

Oh. I'd wanted to have a good last meal.

I got up to put the drug in. It was a weird green that I thought would look better as a paint. But I put it in Keri's soda and Mom and Pop's cider. They don't normally have cider out, but Pop had got a promotion so they celebrated.

I just went upstairs as they crashed on the table. I heard the plates clatter. I didn't look back.

I took them out to the garden and began to start up the lawnmower. I had to jump a few times to start it up, but Bughuul was patient. I think because he's so ancient that he'd have to.

Then I pushed the lawnmower along, holding the camera at the top. Just be natural, I murmured to myself.

Then I started with Mom. Just her face first. Then Pop and Keri. Then I turned round, pulling it (it was really heavy) and then back on their tummies. Bughuul told me to push the lawnmower over their hearts.

Then I did their legs, because that was the last one. I thought someone would hear, but Bughuul told me they wouldn't care.

I think my teacher said it was 'cry wolf'. She told us that story and I felt very sorry for the sheep that the wolf killed. But I read that sometimes the boy died and not the sheep and I felt much better after that.

Then I parked the lawnmower and put their bodies in big orange bags that Pop used to put the yard trimmings in. I saw that lots of grass was mixed in.

I put the bags by the lawnmower and I went up to the camera. I pulled my gloves off and put my finger by my lips. I then walked forward.

I was in my Bughuul's world. I asked Tristin, "What do we do now?"

He told me, "We live in the house until another family moves in and we move with them."

I was happy because it meant that I couldn't leave my bedroom yet.

"How long do we wait?" I asked him, as we sat on the couch and I kicked my legs. He said something about waiting thirteen years.

I was watching when Candace arrived to take Keri out to go shopping.

I smiled as she ran in from the garden, screaming. Her eyes were wide and she almost slid as she gripped the phone.

"Orange County Police Department," I heard the tinkling voice from the other end.

Candace almost shrieked, "There's been a murder!"

"OK, calm down, miss, I need you to-"

"My friend! She and her family are dead!"

"Just listen to me, what's the address?"

Candace yelled and then she blurted, "They're in garbage bags! They were killed by a lawnmower!"

"I'm sorry miss, did you say a _lawnmower_?" I heard the voice on the other end. Tristin and I were almost on the floor with laughter.

When the police came, Tristin, Darren and I were sat at the table. They put lots of tape up and took pictures.

I heard one of them talking.

"The little girl, her body wasn't in the garbage bag." I leaned back in my chair to look at them.

Two police officers, standing together. Sometimes I'd seen them in town. They'd waved to us and once one gave Keri his hat.

"Matilda, she wasn't there."

The other asked, his voice hoarse, "What do you mean?"

"We only found three bodies. Matilda isn't here."

Oh, I _was_ there!

 **Christopher**

My name is Christopher Miller. I was thirteen years old when my parents and brother Jake died on 12th March 1998 in Missouri.

It was about seven months after we'd moved from our home in California. I was very angry about it, but Mom told me, "Chris, it's the perfect time. We've got great jobs and it's just in time for Jake to start middle school. There's an exceptional high school nearby as well for when you start."

For Mom, 'exceptional' meant anything.

I was in bed one weekend when Jake's screaming woke me up.

I struggled to get duvet off and ran downstairs, my heart thudding. Jake was in the kitchen, holding his legs to himself and crying loudly.

"Jake, what is it?" I asked. I wondered where Mom and Dad were. Then I remembered. They were working. Couldn't they have at least _bothered_ to wake me up instead of dumping Jake on me like that?

He was pointing by the oven. There was a box slumped against it and it had a big projector in, the sort they use in school. I went over and, on my knees, I read film reels inside.

 _Pool Party '66. BBQ '79. Lawn Work '86_.

I put my head up in exasperation. Jake was scared of _home movies_?

"Where were these?" I asked.

He crawled up to me (Mom would have told him get off the dirty floor) and latched onto me.

"They had murder in!"

"Murder?" I asked. He squealed so fast I could barely hear him.

"They had some people drowning in their swimming pool and some people burnt in a car and some people killed with a lawnmower!"

I pulled him up and bent down to look in his eyes. "Jake, I'll do you some scrambled eggs and you go get dressed. I'll put these away."

As he did, I heard a voice.

"He wasn't supposed to find them."

I looked around. A boy in a brown shirt.

"When did you come in?" I asked him.

He had grey skin, very cracked. I wondered if he was all right. Then I saw a girl come from the shadows. She had a yellow rain slicker and had grey skin as well. Somehow, her face seemed familiar, though I couldn't place it.

She told me, "Mr Boogie thinks you have a stronger mind." She said it so cold and straight-forward, I felt goose-pimples.

"Who?" I asked, puzzled, as a boy in swimming trunks followed her, as well as a boy in pyjamas.

This was getting weird. I began walking upstairs.

"Jake, there's some kids downstairs. Are they friends of yours?" I called as I stood outside our room. He opened the door and shook his head.

I walked back down and saw they'd gone. The projector was still there.

I was at the library later, as Jake was getting some books out for his Scout group. I always found Scouts a bit much. I was part of the St Louis 'Science For Kids'. It was mostly things like glowing in the dark and lightbulbs exploding. It was fun.

But I went on the computer. Big chunky things that weighed a ton.

As it started up, I waited for Jake. He was only a few feet from me, selecting. I personally wanted to bang my head against the screen.

Eventually the computer had loaded. Took almost as long for Jake to choose what he wanted.

Well, those are computers for you. Big hunks of junk that cost too much and overrated. At least when the Y2K started I'd never have to see them again.

I typed in the search engine 'lawnmower murder 1986'. A few results, mostly from movies. But then I widened the search with 'lawnmower murder 1986 girl'. Better, but nothing I wanted. Jake was getting fed up. He wanted to go to and get some candy.

Honestly, if it wasn't a library, I'd have shouted at him.

Then I tried 'drowning swimming pool 1966'.

I found something interesting. An article from a newspaper in Oregon.

 _The Field family were discovered in their swimming pool about twelve hours after the murder, when a neighbor came round to borrow eggs. Alexander and Linda Field, both forty-four, and their daughters Victoria and Amber, aged sixteen and thirteen, were found dead, having been drugged and drowned in their pool._

 _The Field's son, Tristin, aged 10, is currently missing. Symbols were drawn over the walls inside the house. A motive is unknown, but it is believed someone killed the family in order to leave no witnesses when they abducted Tristin_.

There was a photo underneath. A small boy smiling. The photo was in terrible condition, but it showed the same boy in my house.

That was stupid. Tristin would be Dad's age. How could he still be a kid? Was it his son?

Then Jake started whining, so I switched the off button and got up, grumbling.

I went back when I'd dropped Jake off at home. This time I took lunch so I could eat outside if I had to.

I had a hunch, so I tried the boy in the brown shirt. I typed 'family car burning 1979 missing boy'.

This one came from Sacramento. It was more recent.

 _When fire services were called to the Martinez house by a neighbor who had seen smoke, they were horrified to find three bodies burnt inside the car._

 _After a week, they concluded that only three bodies were found – Ruben Martinez, 48, Maurine Martinez, 42, and Ronnie Martinez, 9. Their second son, Darren Martinez, also 9, was missing from the scene._

 _Strange drawings were found in the half-burnt out garage, but exactly what is unknown due to fire damage._

 _As Darren was not found at the scene, police decided that he must have been abducted. Searches were conducted and his picture appeared on milk cartons, but no trace of Darren Martinez was found._

 _Now, almost twenty years later, the house has been demolished to make way for a new street. Where Darren had been taken, a park is to be erected._

 _ **Headstone: Darren Martinez – Born 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **July 1970 Taken from this place 20**_ _ **th**_ _ **September 1979 May he one day return**_

It chilled me to the bone. I then tried the last one, as I had time.

This one gave me a shock.

 _Matilda Green, 7, vanished from the house a year ago, after her parents and older sister were murdered. There was apparently no sign of a struggle inside the house. The only clothes of Matilda's found to be missing were her dungarees and yellow rain slicker._

 _Why she would be wearing these clothes and not any nightwear was answered by the chief of Orange County Police – because she was abducted and perhaps had to walk or was driven somewhere._

 _But why? That question has been asked by everyone. Why her and not her sister? Why kill her family?_

 _Police questioned over 200 people in Orange County alone. Even now, her face can be seen smiling from the Valentine's Day ball, on a poster to be forever in local people's minds._

 _A one-year vigil was held outside her school yesterday evening. Her sister's friend, Candace, 13, who found the bodies, refused to comment._

 _Back in January, police had arrested a 37-year-old man on the California 91 Express Lane, not far from Deer Canyon Park. He had been pulled over for a routine stop but had a yellow rain slicker in his trunk. After 24 hours of questioning, he was released after his family verified it was for his 11-year-old daughter._

 _However, since his address quickly became known to the public, a mob of over a hundred people rallied to his house and attempted to lynch him. It was only broken up by police. His wife and two children were moved to a safehouse_.

Eck.

People actually did that? Not just in the old days in the South?

Whatever it was, the movies came to my house.

Then I looked again at the house surrounded by crime scene tape. Despite it being in black-and-white, I knew.

It was our old house.

I was still contemplating this when I was in bed, thinking. Then, from the darkness, I saw her.

Matilda was holding her tiny hand out.

She pulled me, like a child pulls a parent, her being so small, to the living room.

I saw the three movies, heart thudding.

Then I asked, "Why was it just placed out?"

Darren answered, as he sat cross-legged on the floor by Tristin and Liron. "Because you're the stronger kid."

He breathed (can they breathe?).

"Plus, you're not going to be a kid for much longer." He nodded towards the projector.

"Bughuul doesn't like it when they grow up."

I considered this. I was the only one in my class whose voice hadn't broke. I'd grown three inches last year.

Something seemed to slither inside me; something that made me click.

I thought about how to do it. Then I heard Jake whining about a later bedtime. They'd always sleep.

That night, I spent my time with Jake. We were snacking on Reese's and watching videos of _The Simpsons_ in our room. I thought I might as well let him enjoy himself. At about ten, I decided to make the drinks.

I put the drug in their coffee and Jake's blackcurrant that night. Then I laid Mom and Dad on the bed and Jake on his, taping them down. I placed the dog between Mom and Dad as I went to get the knife.

"Sorry boy," I told him, "But you'll get a good home."

It didn't take long to draw Mr Boogie's symbols. He told me how to do it. I then went to get the sharpest knife in the house and turned on the camera.

I ignored the dog barking and Mom and Dad groaning as I held the knife. I could still hear the dog when I moved to my room.

Everything done, I went back to the kitchen. I did a weird dance with the knife, to show off. Then I put my fingers to my lips as I prepared to enter Bughuul's world.

 **A/N: I chose the name Matilda from Roald Dahl's book. When I was writing this chapter, I remembered the director wanted to make a Willy Wonka-like character for Bughuul, so I guess it fitted.**

 **Writing 1998 was actually easier than I thought. I'm also a 90s kids, though a lot younger than Christopher had been. I originally set it in October, but in the movie, a poster states it was in March. You have to look closely, it's when Ellison had pointed out pictures of the swimming pool to Deputy So-and-So.**


	3. Family Hanging Out '11

Family Hanging Out '11

 **Stephanie**

My name is Stephanie Stevenson. I was ten years old when my family died in the back garden on 25th September 2011 in Pennsylvania.

We'd lived in the house for two years. Our last house was this two-floored one in St Louis, but this one had one floor, so I got annoyed because I like the view. Mom told me there was a tree so I couldn't argue.

It was about two weeks before that afternoon. I found a projector in the attic when I was looking for stuff for my Girl Scout art project. My twin Jenny told me to get it when she was out horse-riding.

I should have told her to get off her lazy butt and do it herself.

But I saw the videos. _Pool Party '66, BBQ '79, Lawn Work '86_ and _Sleepy Time '98_. Why were they up here? Did they belong to Mom or Dad? And surely there should be more? Maybe they were part of a larger collection.

Anyway, I decided to put it up. Mom told me how to handle a projector. They used to have them at school before DVDs. I saw some in old episodes of _The Simpsons_.

These reels scared me. I put my hands over my eyes and shivered. I opened my fingers but then shut them again when the lawnmower ran over someone.

I then heard something behind me. There were four children there. A boy in swimming trunks, a boy in a brown shirt, a girl in a yellow rain slicker and a boy in pyjamas.

The girl told me, "Bughuul says you're ready."

"Who's he?" I asked, my voice shaking.

They all looked simultaneously to the left, where a giant figure emerged from the darkness. A tall person with a horrible white face and huge black, pointy eyes.

I was scared but as I looked up at him, I felt warmer, as if I were comforted.

"Stephanie," the boy in pyjamas told me, "you chose how they die."

I seemed to understand. The people in the film were their families.

I was inspired when I was swinging on the tyre. How strong it was. How much I loved the tyre.

So I put the drug in Mom and Dad's coffee and Jenny and Brian's colas. They all fell asleep quickly, on the picnic blanket. I started tying the ropes before sunset, I was so eager.

I think Bughuul liked me. I was fast. Climbing up the tree, I began attaching the ropes.

After sawing, I watched them as I finished the last of the cherry pie, still on the blanket. It was a bit cold, though.

Then I swung on Dad's leg. He's always been pretty strong.

But then I went up to the camera and put my finger to my lips.

When I had gone grey and cracked, I went back to the living room and waited. The kids were all with me. I asked, "How long does it take to move house?"

Christopher shrugged. "Took me eleven years."

Matilda told me, "There are others, you know."

I put my head to one side. She went on.

"There was a boy called Liron. He strangled his family in the early sixties. But recently, he began to feel very faint. And then he just vanished."

"Where?" I asked.

"Heaven, Hell, don't know." Tristin replied.

I asked, "How old is Mr Boogie? I know I shouldn't ask how old an adult is, but he's not really alive."

Christopher answered, "He's from ancient Babylon, so about three and a half thousand years, at the latest."

"How many children have there been?" I asked.

Christopher asked, "Why so many questions?"

I told them, "I like to know things."

Christopher's eyes moved up, as if he were thinking.

"Four thousand, Mr Boogie told me. But only thirty-two since 1960. He has lots of families. Don't give me that look, I was upset when I found out, too."

"Why were there so many?" I asked.

Tristin put his hands up, gesturing.

"Because families moved so much. Disaster, plague, war. People died quickly then."

"The fact that whole towns got ravaged or bombed in World War Two didn't help." Darren mumbled.

When the new family moved in, I asked, "Which one do you think is strongest?"

The others were all behind me in the hallway. Matilda pointed.

"The girl. She has a very talented mind. Very strong. The boy's just a weak pile of garbage."

So I knew who my next sister would be.

 **Ashley**

It was cold when Ashley heard the car drive up.

The house hadn't been on the market long. But she couldn't wait to play around the next boy or girl who would kill.

Then she gasped as he came in.

Deputy So-and-So.

"Bughuul!" she shouted, running down the hallway. The kids came out of the various rooms, seeing her frightened. Bughuul materialized in front of them.

"Deputy So-and-So is here! The guy who was at the old house. He's carrying petrol!"

"What does that mean?" Matilda asked, holding Stephanie's hand tight.

Tristin and Darren looked extremely nervous and Christopher was fuming.

"I'll get him." He started, about to run down the hallway and into the living room.

"Wait!" Bughuul called and the boy slunked back.

All eyes were on Bughuul.

He put his arms out, holding Matilda and Tristin by their shoulders. Matilda still held Stephanie's hand and the boys held each other's. Christopher protectively held Ashley close as Ashley put an arm around Stephanie. She liked Christopher. He was like Trevor if Trevor actually cared.

As the flames curled around the living room door, Bughuul did his work.

They were hurling, whirling, as if a huge wind were enclosing around them. Their hair blew round and they tried not to screw their eyes tight in the pain. It was as if they were being yanked through the spout of a tornado.

Eventually, they finished and were in a large garden with a wooden fence.

They dared to look around themselves, to take in their new surroundings.

It was quite sandy and they could see small green plants growing by the roadsides. They guessed they were somewhere in the southwest.

Then some children seemed to come out from the large grey stone steps leading up to the house.

Two girls, three boys. All staring with discontent and exhaustion.

Bughuul began.

"This is another link from Norway. This is Texas. The house is large enough so enjoy yourself." He gabbled, almost embarrassed.

As he disappeared, Christopher walked up to them, defensively.

"I'm doing my best not to be jealous since I got over that a long time ago." He blurted out.

One of the boys, in a white polo shirt, answered, "Not exactly. Bughuul told us about you."

Christopher asked, as his brothers and sisters came up, "Who last lived in the house?"

A boy in a cowboy hat, thick gloves and red pants raised his hand.

Christopher remembered the wooden fence and muttered, "I'm not going to ask."

The boy carried on. "Connor Strudwick. No-one's lived here for almost a decade. Come in. It's always nice to see new people. Well, those who aren't dead, really."

As they all walked in, Ashley asked Stephanie, "You don't think Deputy So-and-So will come here, do you?"

But all Stephanie could say was, "Not unless he connects it."

In the box in the living room, Ashley saw their reels had been slotted in with some others.

 _4_ _th_ _July 1973. Bowling 1984. Harvest 1992. Ice Skating 1998. Bull Fighting 2003._

She couldn't wait.


	4. New Home

New Home

The Platts drove up at half four on 1st August 2013.

Mitchell and Shelly and their fourteen-year-old son Geoff were only staying for a week. Though Geoff didn't know why. He didn't like all this moving constantly.

He blew a bubble on his chewing gum before looking round the place.

What a dump.

He was interested in the story behind it, though. About ten years ago some freak had killed the family here. Their ten-year-old son was missing. Geoff didn't know what happened to him. Didn't care either. Kid was either in someone's backyard or dumped by the road a few miles on.

He grumbled as he went upstairs. No bother unpacking. It wasn't even as if they'd brought anything.

He was lying on his back on his bed when he glimpsed something.

Amongst the many boxes, there lay a projector and some reels. He glanced inside and noticed some reels.

Why did his parents have so many reels? Could be from Dad's 'family' that he never let Geoff go near?

After he set them up, his eyes widened with horror and amazement.

Whoever did this had _brilliant_ special effects skills. He'd have preferred sound, but never mind.

Who did these? Sure, he was a little scared at first, but this was top notch.

He'd chosen to watch them in order. So after _Pool Party_ , he put on _4_ _th_ _July_.

As he slotted it in, he lay back and took it in.

Two girls, both around ten to twelve years old, with an older girl, walking along the road by a beach. A man and woman came some way behind them.

He knew the hippie hair and the flower jeans – his dad wore some ages ago that looked hideous.

Then they were at some allotment or other overlooking the beach. The woman setting up a picnic table. The kids came over from the wall and sat down. The camera now showed them drinking green juice.

Then, night.

The man, woman and two girls were tied to poles. Their hands bound behind and their mouths taped.

Then someone lit a match and held it underneath the poles.

There were fireworks strapped to the poles.

Geoff looked in glee as the first one lit up like a Christmas tree, then exploded.

He saw the woman and girls struggling. Oh, they were really good actors. The woman next. Then the girls.

He clapped to no-one in particular as it ended.

"Very good," he murmured, "very good."

He shifted the reels around as he chose the next one. _BBQ_.

Smiling to himself, when he finished, he picked up the next. _Bowling_.

It showed a bowling alley. A man was bowling balls, a teenage girl with huge hair and low-hanging top and a boy around Geoff's age were sitting at a table nearby, eating. A woman brought in some green juice and they drank while another boy sat on a nearby bench.

Then the family were tied up on different bowling lanes. Someone threw balls, hitting them. The fidgeting bodies tried to break loose, but the balls just kept on whacking.

When he finished, he mused over the fact that someone must have got these ideas from somewhere.

Going online, he typed up about the 4th July.

He found some weird thing from Delaware. It said a family named Waterman were murdered in Delaware. Their eight-year-old daughter Fay was missing.

Then he saw a photograph of a bowling alley. It was in Maryland. On 16th February 1984, a quadruple homicide had been committed there. The employees had come the next day to find the manager, Mr Butte, his wife and two of his three children battered to death. His younger son, Jackson, only eleven years old, was missing.

A sweet portrait of Jackson in a white polo shirt smiled out at him from the screen.

Absolutely fantastic, Geoff bemused, as he looked about the alley. Just like the movie.

As he laughed, the children looked out from the shadows, crossly.

How _dare_ this boy mock their work! Worse yet, he wasn't a child, so they'd have to wait until he had kids!

Geoff watched movies late into the night.

 _Harvest_ started off outside a wheat field, which could be anywhere in the Midwest, with an older girl in red-and-white cotton and a straw hat running along the wooden fence. A man and woman were holding hands as they walked round by a large house.

A seven-year-old boy in blue dungarees and a straw hat was holding a cup of green liquid. Typical, Geoff scoffed, couldn't they use a different prop?

Then, night-time.

The older girl, man and woman were on scarecrow poles, barely visible in the dim light.

Then they moved closer. No, wait. It was a machine. Moving toward them.

The combine harvester made quick work.

He jumped up, heart pounding. That was scary!

Kenny laughed from the darkness. Ashley looked sideways at him.

"I always liked riding it," he chortled in his Kansas accent, "and I wanted to go back."

The youngest child in the large group, little Isabella Patrick, pushed him playfully and he glared at her.

"Kenny Downer," she spoke almost like a grown-up, "Bughuul says that it was knocked down."

Christopher laughed slightly, then put a hand by his mouth as they all peered at him.

"Sorry," he carried on, "but Mom told me something about it. We were driving through to visit my grandparents when she pointed it out. It had a weird plague in front. I remember because it was 15th August, exactly five years before."

They stared back at Geoff as he finished _Sleepy Time_.

He then placed _Ice Skating_ in the slot.

A girl with dark hair and purple mittens skidded on purple skates towards a man, who took her hand, on an ice rink somewhere Geoff recognised.

Then he nodded. This was from Washington. He'd been in a summer camp in the Washington wilderness a few years back.

Before everything went wrong and they kept moving.

Isabella whispered to Ashley, tugging on her clothes, "This next bit's good."

Ashley asked what she'd wanted to say since she first saw the reel. "Is it Christmas?"

"Thirty days before Christmas. Daisy and I wanted to get bikes."

Then, just as with the others, it was night-time. Thin ovals of ice had been cut out of the bottom, where the lake lay underneath. They'd been dragged from the rink, down from a small hill, then lain on the ground.

The woman was pushed first, still struggling under the water. Then the man. Then an older girl.

Isabella grinned her not quite full set of teeth as she remembered.

She clapped her mitten-clad hands together as it ended.

Then Connor's film went in.

The usual, family messing about. Connor's dad stroking the heads of some bulls. His brothers riding some horses, messing about.

Night.

Connor's father and brothers were on the fences, tied loosely to them, but hands and ankles still taped.

Then the bulls, who had been pacing the pen, seemed to notice them.

Within seconds, all of them were pulled up by the animals' horns and gored, thrown about like dolls.

Geoff squinted as he put his head on one side. Strange. That was their new garden. The director must have lived here.

Oh well, whoever he was, Geoff wanted to congratulate him.

That night, as Ashley was looking over the landscape, wondering what pictures she could do that could be inspired by this, she saw a car drive up.

She saw them get out; two men and a woman, all carrying cans of petrol.

Not again. Please, not again.

This one didn't even look like it was Deputy So-and-So.

"Bughuul!" she screamed, running inside.

Eventually, the wind encompassed them again, as they all held onto each other, frightened and desperate.

Then Bughuul held them apart, pushing them and pushing.

His children all looked at him with fear and puzzlement. Why was he doing this?

But then, Ashley opened her eyes.

It was somewhere different this time. Not far from a beach. She looked at the house and saw it was a one-floored one, painted white, with a wire fence. She was somewhere in New England.

Fay, Connor, Tristin and Stephanie were with her.

Bughuul stood up straight and tall, and began before the children could begin complaining.

"Too many of you in one house leaves more room for problems. Don't worry, you'll be safe here. As long as you behave."

Then he disappeared. Tristin moaned, "What now?"

Five children were standing in the doorway on the porch, staring straight ahead at them.

A girl with straight, blonde hair, wearing a yellow party frock and a pink party hat. A boy with red hair and a scuba-diving outfit. A tall boy with light brown hair, his clothes caked in mud. A girl with a dark ponytail, wearing a coral pink riding outfit. A girl with frizzy strawberry-blonde hair, dressed as a vampire.

Ashley couldn't wait to see another movie.

 **Texas**

Deputy So-and-So stood outside the house, feeling a mixture of relief and annoyance.

He'd taken ages to research this chain, burning down the Oswalt and Stevenson houses. After burning down the Green house, he'd learnt a family had lived there in the mid-nineties before moving down to a Texas ranch after a nasty divorce.

He'd found out that the mother had died of pneumonia in a trailer in a park someplace in Los Angeles (thankfully, homeless), but the father and his three sons had suffered worse.

Being gored by a bull...he couldn't think how to approach the house. There might be somebody living there.

When he learnt a family had been killed there by the house burning in August 2013, he'd thrown down his newspaper he'd picked up while eating waffles in a roadside diner, then rushed over fearing the worst.

Then he saw it was actually committed by a third party. He'd asked questions and wondered who on earth would do that.

There was some weird rumor about the dad being in the mafia, but personally he didn't care. The structure had collapsed and it was one less job for him.


	5. Grim Halloween

Grim Halloween

 **Gardening**

Ashley had decided to watch the movies by herself. Take a bit of time to work out a possibility for a new child.

She glimpsed over the movies, before deciding on _Gardening, Wisconsin, 07-17-78_.

She sat back against the sofa, Stephanie and Fay resting next to her.

Two children were in a garden. One was a girl maybe a little older than Trevor. The other was a boy the same age.

Then two adults came out and the man began digging in the soil, as the girl walked to a white table with a sunshade. The girl and woman began drinking as the man stopped and he and the boy began to sit down.

Then it cut to the man, woman and the girl, all lying on the ground, by the flower beds. All had their hands tied and mouths gagged. Then a pair of gardening shears came from the bottom of the screen.

One at a time, it carefully cut the throats of each victim.

Ashley looked over her shoulder and saw him.

"Oh, hey Julian," she said, "I was admiring your handiwork."

He nodded as the film reel ended and sat down beside her, as Stephanie began to select another one.

 **Wisconsin**

Deputy So-and-So looked over the facts, as he leant against his car outside the house.

In 1978, the Groves family had been murdered, everyone said. Mother, father, twelve-year-old daughter Cloe. Her twin was missing.

Made sense.

So far he'd counted roughly thirty children in the United States alone. He couldn't believe he'd come so far in just eighteen months.

Resigning as Deputy, he'd spent hours online looking up murders with a missing child that fitted the pattern. He'd call up and ask about symbols and if anyone had lived there since. Then he'd taken out all his savings and took his car across country.

It would be night soon. Then he would get to work.

 **Birthday Party**

Stephanie inserted the next reel as Misty sat cross-legged on the floor, watching her masterpiece.

The reel (named _Birthday Party, South Dakota, 07-24-69_ ) began as it showed the birthday party of an older boy.

His friends all giving presents and children playing on the bouncy castle.

Night-time – the boy, his parents and a teenage girl were tied up on the bouncy castle, which had been dragged indoors. The camera panned over their faces as they lay still.

Then a birthday candle, snatched from the cake, still with crumbs and icing stuck to the bottom, was lit and placed near the edge of the bouncy castle.

The air inside all lit up in flames and Ashley could just make out the struggling figures inside.

 **South Dakota**

Deputy So-and-So asked the realtor, "So how long has the house been empty?"

The realtor, a bored-looking man who should really have given up smoking years ago and whose face looked like a sad, droopy dog's, recited the same thing that the deputy guessed he must have been asked several times.

"The Mallory house has been empty almost fifty years. There – was an incident on the son's thirteenth birthday. He, his big sister, his parents, all burnt alive inside. It was grisly. The scene was so revolting that one of the officers had to take six months' leave."

The deputy braced himself.

"Did – they _all_ die?"

The realtor glanced up from the report, a little taken aback.

"Well, nobody knows what happened to the youngest daughter. She was only ten when she was snatched. They say snatched because the deaths were an obvious homicide and she was gone. God knows who took her."

"Were there any – signature marks left by a killer?"

The realtor demanded, though not crossly, "You interested in that stuff?"

Deputy So-and-So tried to feign surprise, shrugging his shoulders and his eyes looking round the room, as if this were a bit embarrassing.

"Well, I like writing."

"Writing?" a hint of disbelief.

"Yeah." Whoops, too blunt.

"You don't look like a writer." The realtor almost snapped.

"I'm looking up cults and – well – this sounds like a cult murder. I mean, bunch of people murdered inside their home."

The realtor leaned back in his chair and looked back at the screen, where Deputy So-and-So could just about make out a grainy black-and-white photo of a smiling girl.

"I guess some people suggested that. Symbols were found in the house and after the Manson attacks in California people began putting two and two together. But what puzzles me is what they'd want with the girl."

 **Horse-Riding**

Lyn squealed as Tristin put in the next reel, _Horse-Riding, Texas, 06-04-82_.

"This is mine! Budge up, budge up!"

Ashley groaned as the over-excited eight-year-old slammed down between her and Fay.

The film began.

It showed Lyn riding on a horse, laughing and grabbing at the reins. With a boy next to her and her parents walking around their stables, each feeding horses at the gates. Their names were underneath. Snowball. Nightshade .

Then, night-time.

In the dim light, the camera panned over the first stable, Snowball's. Inside, on a pile of hay, was Lyn's mother. In Nightshade's, her father. Then Lyn's brother in the third pen.

A match was lit and the stables burnt, the cool night air fuelling the flames. The horses were running from the flames, throughout the exercise yard.

The film ended.

 **Texas**

Deputy So-and-So crossed another address off his list as he sat in the car opposite the old Dean house. OK, next house on his list was in California. The Newman house, overlooking the beach. If he started now, he'd been there on time.

 **Surfing and Halloween**

Colin slotted his reel in.

"Which one is yours?" Ashley asked.

He didn't look from the projector as he began to set it up.

" _Surfing, California, 06-06-72_." They sat back on the sofa as it started.

Colin on a beach, his red hair sticking up as he patted a sandcastle. A girl about ten and a girl about sixteen sat on towels, as their mother held the surfboards up. Colin ran over, excited.

Then it showed Colin's mother and his sisters, all tied to surfboards, in the low sunset light. They stirred as Colin pushed one out to the deep with his feet.

"I waved as they left," he told them, "part of me wanted them found, so I tied their ankles to railings at the edge of the beach. They were found."

Then Wendy stood up, her movie the last in the box.

 _Halloween, Connecticut, 10-31-87_.

The film had Wendy's brother and sister at the table, the camera outside the window. Then Wendy's mother served cookies as Wendy ran up to the table, laughing and grabbing one.

The next shot had Wendy's mother and her siblings on the table, the tray with the cookies now scattered on the floor. The knife lingered over her mother's throat, then cut it, the blood spilling onto the floor. Her siblings followed.

As the reel finished, Stephanie stood up and sniffed.

"Steph, what is it?" Tristin asked, worried.

Then they all smelt.

Smoke.

 **Connecticut**

It had been two years since the Oswalt family had been murdered.

Deputy So-and-So was now at the Bishop house in Connecticut. Facts checked out; divorced mom and her kids, victims found on the table with their throats slit, eleven-year-old daughter missing.

But even as he burnt the house, a gust of wind blew past his ears.

He turned to the left for a second and saw her.

He saw Ashley standing there, in her pyjamas, the blood still soaked over them. Angry, determined.

"One day," she hissed, sounding as if snakes were throttling his neck, "we _will_ get you."

She disappeared in the shadows almost as quickly as she came.


	6. Movie Night

Ashley sat down as she looked round the new house.

It was large, just like her old one. The living room was roughly the same, plenty of room for the children as they crashed on mattresses and chatted.

They didn't need the mattresses because they didn't sleep, but it still added to the relaxation.

Six new kids were leafing through the reels.

Jonathon Fletcher was twelve, from Wyoming. He wore a pair of pyjamas and a brown wool jacket.

Della Westley was seven, from North Carolina. She had on some jeans and a purple t-shirt with a slogan from some seventies programme. Like Matilda used to, she wore her hair in lop-sided pigtails.

Elizabeth Archer was twelve, from Mississippi. Like Christopher, she was tall and slim. She also wore a green swimming costume with doodles all over that had obviously been done ages ago with marker pens. Ashley liked that. It seemed carefree, like her paintings.

Robert Roscoe was eight, from Maine. He wore a baseball cap with pyjamas. An odd mix, Ashley thought.

Sam Stevens was ten, from Vermont. He looked rather ridiculous, in black leggings and a white leotard, but he said that he'd killed them in a dance hall. He had said more times than Ashley dared to count that he really wished he'd gone for the clay pigeons instead.

Sandy Acker was also ten, from Florida. Ashley could tell even without the shirt with a crocodile on the front. The girl had a suntan and a Southern accent.

Then, they all stopped what they were doing and listened.

Bughuul emerged at the doorway.

The fifteen children all stood in the centre of the room, waiting.

Bughuul began.

"My task is complete. It took some time, but we have managed."

He then announced, "The Deputy is dead."

Ashley still felt a little remorse. She still had known him.

Then Bughuul told them, "You can stay here at present. There are only three houses that he had not managed to destroy. Here, one in Georgia and one in Illinois. He has been busy. But don't worry, he is gone."

The children all went back to what they had been doing, as Ashley walked up to Bughuul.

"Bughuul?" she asked. He looked down.

"Where – where exactly did he go?"

"He's dead. I don't care." Bughuul started.

But Ashley piped up, "But where do other people go? Where did Mommy and Daddy and Trevor go?"

Bughuul sighed. Or what could be considered a sigh.

"Heard of Dante?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He replied, "Dante was right."

Then he disappeared.

Tristin called, "Ashley, come on! It's starting!"

Jonathon had selected _Campfire 2_ _nd_ _June '68_. Ashley sat down between Stephanie and Wendy as it rolled.

Jonathon in a tent, with a boy next to him around the same age. Then the camera pointed out and showed a man and woman around the remnants of a campfire, talking.

Then it showed all three bound, in separate tents. Something was smeared all over the tents.

It was honey. Lots of honey.

The camera stood some way away as two large, black bears came up from the trees.

Mauling the tents, ripping them to get at the honey. Ashley could make out the victims were also coated in honey. Where had Jonathon got it from?

Then Sandy chose hers. She smirked as she inserted _Greenhouse 2_ _nd_ _March '14_. They sat down as they watched.

Sandy in a garden with an older girl. A man knelt over some tomatoes in a greenhouse and a woman was sitting at a patio table. Ashley could make out the sea view just beyond the house.

Then it was night.

The man, woman and girl were in the greenhouse, drugged, bound and gagged. Gardening tools lay around them. Then a large gardening fork was lifted up and rammed through the heart of the first victim.

Ashley watched nonchalantly as the other two victims were stabbed the same way.

Sandy explained as it ended.

"The dirt would also have got in the blood, which doubles the pain."

Then Della put hers on.

It was _Treehouse 15_ _th_ _March '79_. Della was sitting on the edge of a treehouse and two boys were pulling up a basket and reading a comic.

Della then looked at her brothers as they drank green juice and the camera peered to the adults on the ground, talking and laughing.

Night-time. The man, woman and two boys were in the treehouse, drugged, bound and gagged. A match was thrown and as the camera descended, the treehouse was consumed. Ashley could work out the victims struggling inside.

When Della's finished, Elizabeth stood up and held hers up.

Instead of immediately putting it in, she held it and stood in front of the projector.

"This is named _Swimming Pool 9_ _th_ _May '87_. I filmed this while on holiday from school. As you can see when we get inside, it was filmed at my family's leisure center."

Stephanie asked, "Why are you saying this?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I guess because I like telling before showing. Besides, Mom told me that when there were guests, I shouldn't be rude."

Ashley pointed out, "We're not guests. Bughuul's letting all of us live here."

Isabella nodded. "Yeah. This is our home."

Elizabeth blushed, if she could blush. "Sorry, I get carried away. Anyway, let's watch."

The film began with a teenage boy and girl sitting on pool loungers, with Elizabeth jumping off the diving board. A man and woman were dressed in uniform as they clapped and watched them.

Isabella murmured to Ashley as the screen showed Elizabeth and her sister take part in a water ballet, "Show-off."

Night. The pool's lights were still on, but the parents and Elizabeth's siblings were high up. One at a time, they were pushed into the water with a huge splash. Ashley could make out Elizabeth's sister struggling to hold onto the edge, her eyes wide and terrified.

But Elizabeth stamped on her fingers and caused her to fall.

As it ended, Sam put his in.

Isabella asked, "What's this one?" and leaned forward excitedly.

Then he held it up. _Dancing, 17_ _th_ _April '06_.

It had Sam in a dance studio, along with a girl in a pink tutu and a teenage boy in a leotard. They were on the bar by the mirror, whilst a woman played at the piano. A man walked in holding a drinks cooler and Sam ran in after him, seemingly overjoyed. Gymnastics ribbons lay on a nearby table, along with sheet music.

Then the man, woman, girl and boy to the bars. All were semi-conscious.

Then the gymnastic ribbons, tied round the victims' ankles, were attached to piano wire inside the piano. A few keys were played on the piano, causing their legs to be raised up. Then the piano wire was snapped, lashing back at the victims.

Sam said himself this was a very complicated death, so he'd had to take extra gymnastic ribbons. A day later and they'd have been clay pigeon shooting.

Robert put the last one on and smiled to himself.

He really enjoyed the creativity of this one, he told them.

Ashley didn't see how it could top being sliced by piano wire.

But as she watched _Movie Night 27_ _th_ _September '98_ , she saw she was _wrong_.

Two girls sat on blow-up mattresses in a living room, with a woman at a kitchen counter to the left and a man getting dinner from the oven.

On the screen, a video was being reflected on a wall. As Ashley squinted, she could make out something being shown.

It was the campfire reel they had just seen.

All of a sudden, the two girls screamed silently, pointing. The reel stopped as the woman ran over, but then it showed another one. The swimming pool scene.

The girls were crying and holding each other, the woman looked revolted and the man was banging the walls, trying to find whatever hideous contraception allowed this.

It cut to the five eating around a dinner table, with the glasses of green juice.

Suddenly, it went black. No music. Just...utter darkness.

Then it went through different rooms. It began at the foot of the stairs and then ascended upwards, to the girls' room. On two different beds, they were spread-eagled, their hands tied to the frame.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, in a wide shot of both girls, it showed them going from still to struggling like crazy. Small pools of blood were pouring from their necks.

Then it had the woman in her room. An electric blanket was placed under the main one, as the woman's head lolled from side to side.

Then the dad in the attic. Lying on the floor, trying to escape.

The camera went back to the main bedroom, where the duvet was on fire. The smoke trailed up as the doors were all opened. In the attic, the man had pushed himself over to the window, where he was trying to bash it open with a hammer.

Then he was pushed out and smashed on the gravel below.

The video ended as Sam explained.

"I didn't want my sisters to suffer. Sure, Rebecca and Ruby were a pain, but they were still nice."

 **A/N: OK, just a few more chapters, this time with the children from Sinister 2 narrating. Which video is your favourite or the scariest?**


	7. Running

Running

Christopher groaned as the kids rallied around the projector in the house in Georgia where he now was with Darren and Matilda.

This was _not_ what he had envisioned when he had been alive.

Each of the kids wanted theirs and were bickering.

Ray Reed wanted _Free-Falling, NYC, 10/16/1976_.

Dudley Gardiner wanted _Hike, SD, 11/5/1981_.

Jolene Masterson wanted _RV, NV, 7/27/1986_.

Karl Penny wanted _Karate, MA, 11/28/1989_.

Burt Honeysett (some people had _horrible_ parents) wanted _Beach, GA, 5/25/1996_.

Christopher was at boiling point. "Shut up!" he started, standing up. They all looked at him. He demanded, "I'm the eldest, so _I_ choose!"

Quentin argued, "Na-ah, _I_ am."

"I'm a year older." Christopher pointed out. Forest backed down, blowing his unfortunately honey-colored hair out of his eyes and kicked his trainers on the floor.

Christopher asked, "OK, kids, I'll pick one at a time. How about...Ray?"

The seven-year-old kid with freckles spreading from ear to ear grinned as they began to watch.

It showed Ray's equally freckled family in an apartment in New York. Eating dinner, as a matter of fact. Ray's big sister was talking on the telephone in the background, ignoring her family.

Matilda scowled. She knew how that felt.

Then it was night. Ray's mother, father and sister were drugged, ropes tied around their waists. Then, one at a time, they were lifted over, as if they were taking part in a macabre bungee-jumping.

As it ended, Christopher scanned the children, before deciding.

" _RV_."

Jolene smirked as she slotted it in and lay back.

The nine-year-old sniggered as it started up. Her biggest success.

It had two identical blonde girls sitting at a table in an RV, taking part in a card game. Jolene was glumly looking out the window. A woman was reading on a bed and a man was driving.

Then it cut to night. The two girls were on beds, the duvets covering their bound bodies as their heads lolled around. The woman was in the passenger seat and the man in the driver's seat. Bottles and cans had been emptied all over the floor; shampoos and washing-up liquid and cooking oil.

Then a match was lit and thrown on the beds. The duvet moving as the victim underneath thrashed around.

The camera moved to a cupboard where some marshmallows were pulled out. After they were inserted onto a kebab stick, the camera went up to the second bed. A match was thrown on that as well, as the camera moved safely behind the flames, by the door of the RV.

The marshmallows were slowly turned over the flames on the first bed, before two more matches were thrown onto the seats.

Christopher was slowly nodding as it ended, as if he was one of those dogs on the backs of cars.

"Impressive." He turned to Jolene.

"A plus."

She squealed with excitement as Forest grumbled.

Then it was Dudley's turn.

As it began, he told them, "This was for my birthday. Well, my birthday was actually a couple of weeks before, but Mom and Dad saved for it."

"Why?" Christopher asked.

Dudley explained. "Turning ten was always a big thing in my family. Tom always told me he wanted to go to California for his tenth. I chose Mt Rushmore. If you look closely, you can see it in the background."

It began.

Walking along a mountainside, or something like that. A man, a woman, two boys. they were walking along a path and then at a picnic table, where Dudley got up and walked off as the three drank.

Night. The man, woman and boy were at the edge of the path. All propped up on the other side of the fence.

Sharp objects, such as a tin-opener and a knife, were taken from the rucksack on the picnic table. Then they were all shoved in their backs as the bodies rolled down the hill.

As the reel ended, Karl selected his.

A man, woman, boy and girl were in karate outfits, in a living room. Karl sat down by them as they ate a meal. There was a close-up as the boy drink from a takeaway cup.

Night. Still in their outfits, the four were on three of the sofas around the coffee table, which still held their plates and the glowing drink, with the girl, who was even older than Christopher, behind the last.

A samurai sword came out of nowhere, then sliced the man in the chest, right where the belt was. The others followed suit.

Burt smirked as he put his in.

It started off with a man, woman and a teenage boy on a beach. Sitting on towels and talking. The camera was propped up and caught them from a distance. Burt went up to them and sat with them.

Then it was sunset. In the pink glow, the heads of the man, woman and boy were visible. Their bodies were bound, all in cylinders cut into the sand.

The towels were still on the beach, some feet away.

The camera backed up onto some stone steps and watched. The cylinders filled up with water and the three struggled to keep afloat. The tide was now coming in, as they tossed their heads round, trying to escape.

But it was to no avail.

As it finished, Christopher lay back, wondering.

When would that Deputy stop?


	8. The Last of The Children

The Last of The Children

 **Milo**

My name is Milo Josephson. I was ten years old when my family died on 30th April 1961 in Illinois.

I had seen the pictures when I lived there. Sometime in April, I saw these two kids talking to me. Brita Johansen and Ernst Omdahl. Apparently, we used to live in Ernst's apartment.

They showed me their drawings, but they handed me something better.

"An 8mm camera," Ernst told me, "because Bughuul wants to move forward, make sure his work is captured. You'll be the first to use it."

I smiled. I was content.

I knew living in a farm in Illinois was rubbish anyway.

I had so many plans for the world. Sometimes I would hold my toy cowboy gun at the window and pretend to hit the birds outside.

Dad was such an idiot. He was a priest. But he swore at Mom. I had three older sisters. They were Rosa, Rachel and Melissa. Dad thought it would be sweet that our names matched.

Rosa, Rachel and Melissa were sickening sweet to the outside world. Rosa worked at the charities and Rachel spoke up for African-Americans. But behind closed walls, they were as cruel as Dad.

Rudy hit me and my sisters stole my stuff. Once they gave me a 'bath' – covering me in girly shampoo and throwing me in the bath in my clothes.

So I decided it was time.

Rats. I'd used rats. To attack the filth that they were.

That Sunday, Dad spoke up about being kind. He never knew what kindness was.

"Unless ye become as little children, ye cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven."

As we finished, I waited for them to fall asleep. The rats did a good trick and I watched as I ate my last meal; a plate of fries. When it finished, I was finally happy.

I could be free of my dad's tyranny.

 **Emma**

I am Emma Glover. I was fourteen years old when my family died on 25th December 1975 in Michigan.

I was Bughuul's oldest American child. I was a 'late bloomer', as Mom put it. So was she.

I didn't see the reels. Dad did. He kept them secret in our house in Michigan. He said he was watching a bunch of amateur rubbish and that he didn't want us watching it.

My siblings, James, aged nine, and Libby, aged twelve, were always bright and happy and laughing. Just like that Christmas, actually.

I saw a man above my bed that night, just a few days before Christmas. I shared a room with Libby and looked over at her, fast asleep.

What was this thing? What was this dark creature? Was it just a nightmare?

Then I saw a kid. A kid standing by my bed.

A boy in a scuba-diving outfit. He grinned at me.

"I'm Collin." He told me. "I want to show you something."

He said he used to live in California, by Miami Beach. That seemed to stir something.

I remembered when we lived in Miami Beach. For eight months in 1972 and 1973, we'd lived there while Dad worked at a store selling sporting gear. I'd heard that a divorced mom used to live in my house with her three kids. That the boy was missing and that the mom and her daughters were found dead on the beach.

So, this was Collin Newman.

I planned my method rather early on. I just needed to wait for snow.

I remember seeing it snow on Christmas Eve. It was after sunset and James was running towards the window, yelling with excitement.

"It's snowing! It's snowing!" he cried, jumping up and down.

Mom went up and kissed him on the forehead. "You'll have plenty of fun for Christmas, won't you?" she giggled.

James shrieked and then I smiled.

I'd already worked out the title in my head.

I got what I wanted for Christmas, so I got a great last day. I got the illuminated globe, the last of the books in a favored series, a new U-matic.

It was hard, even with Bughuul's help, to dig graves, but I guess I did it well.

James was the last to die, so his eyes looked at the camera. But anyway, I really liked the church bell addition.

 **Ted**

I am Ted Kellogg. I was eleven years old when my family were tragically mauled by alligators in Florida on 14th July 1977.

My brothers had seen the videos first, in our basement a couple of miles from the crime scene. One was a senior in college, looking for something to help. They told me the movies were 'weird-looking' and _had_ to be some twisted joke.

Until I saw Bughuul above my bed that is.

I learned to love him. He's fine. Just don't upset him.

I asked Dad when we were on the boat, "So, expect to catch anything big?"

He chuckled.

"Ted ma boy," he breathed, "the biggest stuff round here are gators and you definitely don't wanna catch them."

That inspired me.

When they were having a drink, I set it up.

The alligators would be tempted, so I hung them over from the trees. The alligators made quick work and I smiled in the cool summer night.

I hung around a little while, watched the crime scene tape, the reporters saying that an 'eleven-year-old vulnerable boy is missing and it is vital that he be returned safe'. I heard they suggested I was alligator meat and ruled me as dead.

Apparently that's why it took so long for the Deputy to find me.

 **Catherine**

My name is Catherine Richardson. I was eight years old on 6th February 1985, when I lived in Minnesota.

My family were sadly killed in Dad's dentist surgery.

It all started a few days earlier when I had come after school. Dad said I may as well have an appointment. I never liked it. Being a dentist's kid isn't fair.

I was reading when I was alone in the lobby, skimming over the bad parts and moaning to myself that Dad had a lousy job.

My sister Martina didn't care. She said Dad could have it worse.

Well, I certainly didn't think so.

I heard someone call, "Hi." So I put my book down. A girl stood nearby, with a bobble hat. Then just behind her was a boy in white.

"Dad's unavailable, sorry." I told them, but then they moved forward. The boy held a reel titled _Fishing Trip_.

"Watch it, Catherine. We might find you'll enjoy it." The boy grinned at me.

So over the next few days, I watched _Birthday Party_ , _Surfing_ , _Christmas Morning_ and _Fishing Trip_. I found myself reeled in by it. Maybe because Bughuul has an odd effect over us.

According to _Jekyll and Hyde_ (Dad talked about it over the table on New Year's because we saw an old movie), there is a good and bad side to everyone. But Bughuul pulls the bad side and makes it – as Dad would put it – 'dominant'.

Bughuul changes us.

But by this point, we don't care.

I drugged the drinks during after hours. I put them all in the dentist chairs and had it all done.

Mom and Dad and Martina were _constantly_ screaming. The drill couldn't drown out the sound.

It was supposed to be easy. But I just couldn't do it very well with them screaming. I just shoved it right through Dad's head. Mom was next. Then I stood right in front of Martina, holding it by my side, blood over my top.

"Please Catherine," she was sobbing, "don't hurt me."

I snarled.

"I'm giving this to you because you're a mean sister and I hate you!"

I held it carefully and giggled as she died.

 **Peter**

My name is Peter Fitzroy. I was ten years old when my family died in Minnesota on 11th November 1997.

I first saw the films when I came across them only a month after we moved in. We hadn't set anything up yet and were still paining the rooms.

My stuff was all over my room; a Simpsons game, soft toys and my medals from my activity days in my old school. I found the reels under the desk.

The titles made me curious.

" _Horse-Riding_? _Campfire_? _Dentist Appointment_?" I couldn't understand.

I guess I was frightened at first. Hiding under my duvet. But I decided to be brave.

I watched them and then they egged me on, Lyn and Jonathon and Catherine. And then I planned it.

The kitchen was still being done. My parents and my brother Kent were sat down. We'd ordered some takeaway food, so I put the drug in their drinks.

I waited until nightfall before I tied them up. I had my wellingtons on and held the cable. I let the water out. I held the camera by it, so I'd get a good shot.

I could make out their terrified faces in the gloomy darkness. I didn't care any more.

I was Bughuul's.

I threw it and then they all flopped around, like fish after you take them out of a bowl. It was rather fun.

I liked the light show as well. It was quite bright.

When I left, I wondered how they'd be able to get my family out. I guessed that perhaps the rescue services had unique equipment for this.

 **2015**

It was three months since the Deputy had vanished.

The police had investigated, so had the FBI. They'd come up with something.

All those houses. Burnt to the ground.

The disappearances of Stephanie Stevenson, Ashley Oswalt and Zach Collins.

All connected to him.

So a decision was made. The Deputy was wanted for questioning with the murders and disappearances. Dubbed 'The Family Murders', the FBI were investigating unsolved homicides with the same modus operandi going back to 1961.

Thirty-four different abductions, countless multiple homicides and arson.

The theory, devised from documents written by Ellison Oswalt from back before he vanished, Professor Jonas' research and the different arson attacks across the States, was that an underground cult abducted children, murdered the witnesses in bizarre ways as offerings to a god, then took the children to the cult for unknown purposes.

The Deputy could be a member or a victim or even both; it hadn't been decided.

But he was listed as the prime suspect in the abductions of Stephanie Stevenson, Ashley Oswalt and Zach Collins.

Their three pictures smiled out from the FBI poster with the Deputy's photo from his days in the force above it.

' _Wanted for Abduction_ ' the headline read. And it was impossible to not look at the three children without feeling some hint of sympathy, anger and worry.

Everyone in America was afraid. Afraid for their children, for their livelihoods.

What was this horrendous cult that struck without warning and where were the children?

Thirty-five faces were lined up on a wall in the FBI.

Young children, older children, smiling, frowning, school photos and family photos, black-and-white or color.

Then the picture of the symbol, dotted beneath them.

It hadn't been released to the public. After all, law enforcement need to keep something to themselves otherwise they wouldn't know who was the genuine article.

Little Ashley sat at a computer, typing away in the FBI.

Bughuul needed more, she thought, so we must please him. Now she is ready.

Then she sent it out to other offices in the de..part..department, ready...for...

 **Access is forbidden.**

 **Access is forbidden.**

 **Access is forbidden.**

 **Access will be granted to Bughuul.**

 **What? I didn't say that –**

 **Access granted by Ashley Oswalt, for Bughuul –**

 **What are you going on –**

 **Error**

 **Error**

 **Error**

 **Error**

 **Error**

 ***gty%kv^pdqndbduo6%79136**

 **^ &3h07342en-'][.[]=32-r0-81779**

 **Error**

 **Error**

 **907(*^- Bughuul is he-817**

 **Bughuul is wiating=9023179327848904**

 **This is not a drill**

 **This is not a drill**

 **Uploaded: Lawn Work, Surfing, Bull-Riding, Sunday Service**

 **This is not a drill**

 **This is not a drill**

 **Uploaded - House Painting '12**

 **What's your favorite scary movie?**

 **Is it mine?**

 **Or maybe mine?**

 **Or perhaps mine?**

 **Take a look. Don't be - 9816289 This is not a drill**

 **Code Red**

 **Alert**

 **Alert**

 **Hush hush.**

 **Here comes the boogeyman.**

 **What was that noise?**

 **Here comes the Boogeyman.**

 **I am Ashley Oswalt. I made Daddy famous again.**

 **Ssh.**


End file.
